Obsidian
by Dingo
Summary: Obsidian is a wrestler-a high-flyer, part of Team Xtreme, to be precise-but when a high school friend, crush and former teammate flicks on to WWF Raw and recognises him, his life will turn upside down. (Tiny Power Rangers/WWF crossover)
1. Chapter One

Okay…this is a slight Power Rangers/WW(E)(F(whatever) crossover, but this won't be much of one. Basically, for all the WWF fans, being a Ranger and morphed gives you extra strength. For PR fans, wrestling is kind of self-explanatory, but contact me with any problems.

Dates necessary to be known: Kimberly and others were sixteen when they were Rangers, which was in 1995. This story is set around Wrestlemania 2002, and we enter the scene the Thursday before Wrestlemania, with a Smackdown! broadcast being shown live.

   Kimberly wiped the sweat off her brow. _Note to self: pruning in ninety-degree heat is not good,_ she thought. She flicked on the TV, and kept walking towards the fridge. _Water is good,_ she mentally reminded herself as she drank deeply from the small bottle in the fridge.

   The compact gymnast moved so she could watch the television as she drank, watching idly as an ad came on for motor-racing that night. "Oh yeah," she said aloud. "Sports channel."

   She had been watching the American gymnastic team compete in a documentary aired the night before, and hadn't changed the channel before going to bed. The young teacher had been proud of the team, especially since three of the eighteen competitors had come from her gym. _Old gym,_ she corrected herself. At twenty-three years old, Kim Harte had already been a respected gymnast, winning a gold medal in the 2000 Olympics. Immediately after her win, she started up a gym for hopefuls, and handpicked promising students for her old teacher Gunther Schmidt. The gym was now in full control of one of her other teachers Barbara Michaels, but she still could breeze in at any time.

   The small property she bought herself just outside Charleston, South Carolina, was over five hundred kilometers away from her gym in Florida, but at her age, she felt she had accomplished all she needed to in the small area north of Tampa. She was set up comfortably for a few years to come with all the royalty paychecks coming through from the gym, and she was making the most of it.

   A modest woman to the end, she always wore 'normal' attire, never going for the bared-midriff fashion she used to. Any day could find her around the house or down at her nearest neighbours', soaking up the sun in a plain pink blouse, usually with a pair of white cargo shorts. As she lounged on the couch, she was wearing a slightly dirty pair of overalls-_Shades of Billy,_ she reflected,-over a white top.

   She gazed upwards in mock-horror as one particular show came on-screen. "Wrestling?" she moaned to her cat Sapphire, as the blue-eyed kitten jumped onto her lap. She gazed without enthusiasm as a birdcall sounded on-screen, and a ratty-looking approx. thirty-year-old with an equally ratty gold belt appeared at the top of the ramp, pushing a shopping trolley in front of him. Disinterested, Kim picked up the TV magazine, sure there was something better than that on the idiot box.

   She paid no attention as a song that sounded like an instrumental 'In The End' (Linkin Park) started playing, and a dark figure walked down the same ramp in near-blackness. Nor did she pay any attention as the second man threw a ladder into the ring before climbing in himself. Kimberly looked up for only a second as the bell rang, but since it only showed a close-up of the ratty man's face, she lost interest. A few minutes later, however, she did glance up as the audience on TV started chanting 'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…' She watched with little attention, but sat up straight as she watched the second man hurling his body off the ladder and doing a back flip to land forearm and stomach first on his opponent. She stared in total disbelief as the man was handed the belt, and the camera gave a close-up of his face.

   "Crap," she whispered to herself. That had been her high-school love putting his body on the line…but didn't he look different now.

   He had a barbell through his right eyebrow, and she got sidetracked thinking of how she'd enjoy pulling it with her teeth. _Down, girl._ His ear was pierced twice more, and as he grinned, she could see the shine of a metal stud on his tongue. He had a tiny tattoo of a frog under his pierced ear, and that was all she got as the camera zoomed away onto two other older guys, both probably in their late forties.

   _How the heck did I lose touch with him that much?_ she wondered, scratching Sapphire under the chin for a gentle purr. _Only two…three…okay, four and a half years, and since when did he want to be a wrestler?_

   She narrowed her eyes as the two on-screen said something about a Pay-Per-View coming up, and grabbed for her TV guide with one hand and the phone with the other. She dialed up a number and quoted her credit card number, before repeating the PPV name she had heard. "I want to order…Wrestlemania."

   "So the Hardcore title is in a match at Wrestlemania!" Black hair shook as a high-flyer shook his head. "Man, your first Wrestlemania. How do you feel?"

   Midnight eyes flicked upwards, and the man just shook his head in response. "Dipshit."

   Matt Hardy grinned as he patted his friend's back. "Dude, that star press was awesome. If I didn't feel so threatened, and you weren't already part of it, I'd invite you into Team Xtreme." He grinned quickly to show he was joking.

   "I don't think I'd accept again," the man answered. "I don't like hangin' round lovebirds too much." The man had lost a lot of his shyness from when he was a teen, more outspoken yet aloof with most people.

   "Speaking of lovebirds," Matt said, rolling his eyes as his younger brother Jeff burst into the room. "Where's Lita?" he questioned.

   Jeff flushed. "Um…freshening up?" he questioned.

   "Eh eh!" Matt answered in an imitation of Stone Cold, throwing a pair of socks at Jeff. "See, now we know you've been doing some major lip-locking. You'd be better off saying 'I don't know.'"

   Jeff looked sheepish. "Is it too late to say that?"

   The man nodded sagely. "Way too late."

   "Nuts." Jeff then threw the socks back at Matt.

   Dark eyes watched as the brothers play-wrestled on the floor. This was his family, he acknowledged, patting the broken hardcore belt as he did. He knew that both Hardyz, especially Matt, would fight him for the Hardcore title if they ever got the chance, but they would never jump him in the locker room. And he knew whatever happened in the ring between them would stay in the ring.

   "Hey, dude," Lita called as she entered the room, her hair strangely neat. She exchanged a quick kiss with Jeff before she questioned, "You got your laptop here?" He nodded, and indicated his bag on the floor. Lita smiled a thanks at him before ducking to retrieve it.

   "So how long exactly were you making out for?" Matt questioned. _Here we go,_ the man thought, absently starting the timer on his watch.

   "Twenty three minutes and forty seconds," Lita responded.

   "How long 'freshening up'?"

   "Five minutes." Lita hooked up the laptop to the Internet.

   "How many people went past?"

   "People went past?"

   Kim watched the second show of wrestling incredulously. The different show, Smack-it-down or something, had her crush pitted against a man who the announcers reported to be a man called Test, and she could see that the Test fellow was taller by about three inches and probably weighed about sixty pounds more.

   She watched in disbelief as her old friend pulled off moves from the top rope, rivaling anything she had seen him do morphed or demorphed. One move in fact was so dangerous she grabbed the pillow and her knuckles turned white.

   "And oh my God, he's going…yes, he's going for the Apache Tears…and oh my, he just took out Test! Test is unconscious! The referee is stopping the match!"

   He had just flipped off the turnbuckles and landed on Test's shoulders. As if that wasn't enough, he then flipped backwards, curling into a ball so Test…all three hundred rough pounds of him…flicked backwards into the air and landed…hard…on the mat, flat on his back.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has stopped the match. Your winner…Obsidian!"

   Obsidian tuned back in to the conversation. Matt was still interrogating Lita, and she was replying in a monotone, still surfing the 'Net.

   "First article of clothing to come off."

   "Hair tie."

   "Rate him as a kisser."

   "Ten out of ten."

   "Rate me as a kisser."

   "Ten out of ten."

   Matt snuck Obsidian a smug grin.

   "Heeheehee…beat that, old man," he grinned.

   Lita stood, brushing off her shorts. Obsidian winked back at Matt, and grabbed Lita, smacking a kiss right on her lips.

   "Whoa," she grinned. "That tongue ring kicks ass!"

   Matt was nonplussed. "Rate him as a kisser."

   "Whoa…thirteen out of ten!" she grinned. Obsidian nonchalantly checked his watch, duly noticing that ten minutes had gone past from when Lita had come into the room.

   Matt pouted, then nudged Jeff with his foot. "Jeff!" he whined.

   Jeff snorted, curled up on the bench as he was. "But Matt, wouldn't we look funny without ears?" he muttered, half-asleep.

   "Jeff! The boy here just kissed your girl!"

   The multi-colored head popped up quickly. "What?"

   Lita jokingly placed her body between Jeff and Obsidian. "Now now, killing him won't do anything," she soothed.

   Obsidian grinned. This definitely was his family now.

   Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Lita and Obsidian. Team Xtreme.

   Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Amy Dumas and Adam Park. One family.


	2. Chapter Two

"Did you guys feel that way at your first Wrestlemania?" Adam questioned the Hardyz.  
  
Matt chuckled. "Butterflies, excitement, more butterflies, felt like you're about to hurl?"  
  
"No. More hurling, more excitement. Probably more butterflies."  
  
"Yeah," Jeff answered. "Got it in two."  
  
Adam rolled his shoulder. "Remind me to tell Steve to go a little easier on the shoulders next time," he requested. "Ouch."  
  
"Looked painful," Lita said, skipping ahead. "I didn't see much of it, though."  
  
"What? Miss Women's Champ too high and mighty to watch a friend's match?" Adam pouted.  
  
Lita stared at him, waiting for the group of three to catch up. "I just realized you've spoken more in the last five minutes than you have in the last five weeks."  
  
Adam simply smiled.  
  
"We don't even know where you're from," Jeff pointed out, slinging an arm around Lita's shoulder.  
  
"A little town called Stone Canyon, originally. Angel Grove if you want to go teenage."  
  
"Yay. We actually know something about you!" Lita crowed.  
  
Adam laughed. "Two months and you don't even know me," he said. "Maybe I should steal Edge's catchphrase."  
  
  
  
Kim watched the screen, cuddled up in a thick blanket on her sofa. Her eyes were wide as she played Adam's move again and again. Everyone said wrestling was fake, and so it might be, but still…the gymnastic skill and precision all the wrestlers displayed was amazing!  
  
He flipped backwards off the turnbuckle and landed hard on the canvas. The black-haired man she gathered was called Steve Blackman took advantage and rolled him onto his back. Adam shot his hand in the air, a millisecond before the ref's hand came down for three.  
  
The other man got up and pushed the ref; obviously ticked that he didn't get three. Suddenly a thick…bamboo?…stick came crashing on his head, effectively cracking it into splinters. Blackman collapsed, and Adam quickly covered him. And after the three was counted, Adam quickly got up the ramp, where two men were waiting for him, one with bright orange and purple hair, the other with long black hair. They pulled him into a hug, and with that angle Kim could see all three men had about the same build, although the black-haired man was a little bigger around the chest area.  
  
Kim whistled in recognition, and stopped the tape, rewinding to a match about half-an-hour before. The two guys had gone against two other guys almost twice their size, and amazingly had won.  
  
Kim shook her head again, and watched the remainder of the matches, eyes growing wider every second.  
  
  
  
Adam wiped the sweat off his forehead, looking out the window. "Do things start to blend into one another after a while?" he questioned Matt.  
  
Matt shrugged. "Depends on your perspective, and how long you're staring. Jeff's perspective is that everything is different, but then again, he and Lita never leave the hotel rooms. Occasionally, if you're like me, some things blend together. Then you need to go home for awhile, relax and regroup." Matt flicked on the indicator. He turned the wheel, Adam having to grab the door handle to keep from falling out off his seat. Matt shot him a sheepish look. "Just be glad you aren't driving with Jeff."  
  
"No one could drive worse than you, boyo," Adam said.  
  
"You'd be surprised." Matt squealed into a parking spot, and almost before the car had stopped, Adam had jumped out of the black sedan and looking at it like it was poisonous.  
  
"Remind me to get a ride with someone sane next time?" he requested as Matt dragged their bags out of the trunk.  
  
"What's your definition of sane?" Matt questioned. "Sane as in normal person sane, or sane as in Perry Saturn sane, or sane as in normal wrestler sane?"  
  
Adam wrinkled his nose. "One or three."  
  
Matt shrugged, tossing Adam his bag. "Normal people come a dime a dozen. They're called stagehands. And the sanest wrestler would be one of the APA or Steve Austin; they're always drunk so they don't have to care about consequences."  
  
Adam would have responded, but a red car screeching into the slot next to him dampened his will to say anything. Stopping on a dime, the car squealed out a protest, and the front two wheels jumped the curb.  
  
Shaking his head, Adam watched as Lita climbed out of the passenger's seat, looking a little stressed. "I drive next time," she was telling the driver of the car.  
  
"Fine, Leet, okay, Leet," Jeff Hardy repeated as he clambered out of the driver's seat.  
  
Still shaking his head, Adam turned to Matt. "I concede to you, oh great master," he intoned.  
  
  
  
"So you're tellin' me you want a gymnast 'o come up and 'each those boys a couple'a tricks?" an incredulous voice questioned.  
  
"Not any gymnast. We want a professional, someone who knows what they're doing, and won't get awestruck by all the people hustling around," the slightly frustrated voice said.  
  
Barbara snorted. "Well, the only person I know of like that is Kimberly Harte. You might have heard of her, gold medallist for gymnastics 2000. Only problem is, she's not here; she's moved to South Carolina, just outside Charleston."  
  
"Could I get her number then?" the voice asked impatiently.  
  
"Fine, just a second." Barbara sighed, finding and telling the guy Kimberly's phone number, before asking, "What's she going to be doing?"  
  
"Wrestling," the man answered, seconds before he hung up.  
  
Barbara stared at the phone, beeping out a dial tone. "They want Kimmy in the World Wrestling Federation?" she questioned herself quietly.  
  
  
  
Adam rolled in his bed, unaware that his life was about to change drastically. "Appearance at WWF New York for Raw, Chicago for Smackdown, Raleigh for Raw, Charleston for Smackdown afterwards," he thought to himself.  
  
Although he didn't know it, in less than two weeks he would get one of the biggest shocks of his life. 


End file.
